


Secrets & Sauvignon Blanc

by Bugggghead



Series: Bughead Drabbles & One Shots [3]
Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bughead bickers and banters like a married couple, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Married!Bughead, One Shot, Private Investigator!Betty, Private Investigator!Jughead, Shameless Smut, Smut, They have no artistic abilities, Wine and Paint Class, investigating!bughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/pseuds/Bugggghead
Summary: Betty & Jughead are in their late twenties. They are the proud owners of Blue and Gold Private Investigation Agency and they’ve been hired to investigate a case of suspected infidelity. In order to gain access to the target’s office, they pose as Mr. & Mrs. Smith, a young couple looking for a night out at a new wine and palette location in Greendale.





	Secrets & Sauvignon Blanc

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my twin & good friend @peaceblessingspeyton (thanks for making time for my spur of the moment muses, btw!)
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Betty and Jughead entered the small ‘classroom’ designated for their wine and palette class on the far west side of Greendale thirty minutes before their scheduled session. 

At the front of the room sat a beautiful and suspiciously complicated painting. It was a sunset over the ocean with interwoven hues of orange, red, and yellow that seemed to weave in and out of each other to create the illusion of depth over the calm waters. Betty stared at the model painting in disbelief, there was simply zero chance she would be walking out of here with anything that looked even remotely like that.

“We’re not really making that are we?” Jughead asked, startling her with his sudden proximity to her ear. He leaned over her shoulder and appeared to be eyeing the painting with doubt.

“I highly doubt  _ I  _ am,” she laughed before turning around to face him, “but we have to stay for the whole class. Don’t forget, when you see the owner leave for the night, I need you to-“

“Yeah, yeah, you need me to sneak into his office and look for his calendar and any receipts I can find. Don’t worry, Betts. I’ll take care of it,” he said, bringing his thumb up to flick the end of his nose.

“I’m trusting your lock picking skills here Jughead, don’t make me regret it.”

“Okay, just because I didn’t read every single Nancy Drew that’s ever been published doesn’t mean I’m useless with a bobby pin,” he assured, rolling his eyes. 

“Speaking of,” Betty paused, reaching up to extract two extras bobby pins she had stashed at the base of her neckline, “take these.”

“I only need one, Betts,” Jughead attempted to protest.

“Jug,” Betty replied, tilting her head to the side, “you know how much I love you, but we both know if I send you with one you’ll wind up needing two. So just take a backup. Worst case scenario, you won’t need it.”

Jughead huffed in feigned annoyance before dutifully taking both of the spare bobby pins and tucking them into his pocket.

“We should pick seats before people start coming in, make sure we have a good vantage point,” Betty observed, scanning the room and settling on two chairs towards the back. They faced the large opening of the hallway where the owner’s office was located. 

The whole reason they were there that night was because the wife of the new wine and palette establishment’s owner was convinced her husband was having an affair but hadn’t been able to find concrete proof. While neither Betty nor Jughead particularly liked these kinds of cases, opening up a private investigation agency a few years ago inevitably lead them to their fair share of infidelity inquiries. The spouses always paid very well, apparently willing to blow large sums of money all in the name of ‘love’, and with business slowing to a crawl lately, they couldn’t exactly be picky as to which cases they took on. Riverdale wasn’t exactly the prime location for a private investigation agency and this was the first of many attempts to branch out their business to the surrounding area.

When they first opened up the agency, business boomed. Riverdale was aflutter with the news of the former investigative duo and high school sweethearts triumphant return from University and subsequent new business. Betty and Jughead had originally left Riverdale in their rearview mirror shortly after their high school graduation. They both attended Boston University and received high honors in their bachelor's and master’s degree programs. Upon graduation, they were offered their pick of positions at different publications. However, journalism, as much as they loved it, had become a dying art over the course of their tenure. Their favorite parts of the career had always been the investigations. On a whim, they blew nearly all of their six years’ worth of savings on the first year’s rent for their storefront and their necessary licenses to officially open up the Blue and Gold Private Investigation Agency.

Two years and a plethora of clients later, Betty and Jughead found themselves content with the mundane cases they were hired on for. Their lives had settled into a comfortable routine and it was more than Betty had ever dreamed it could be.

They got married the summer after earning their Bachelor’s degrees and before starting graduate school. It was a simple ceremony held in their hometown and everything about the understated affair had fit them to a T. Married life hadn’t meant much of a change for them. They already lived together, they shared their finances, and planned well into their shared future long before any proposal had taken place. The biggest change at the time was the matching white gold bands that had adorned their fingers for years now.

People were starting to show up for the class and Betty and Jughead observed a few groups come in with snacks and various bottles of alcohol. They opted to bring a single bottle of their favorite wine, a Sauvignon Blanc from a vineyard in Napa Valley they had visited on their honeymoon. 

They tapped their complementary red solo cups filled with wine together and took a sip, preparing to execute their plan while still keeping up the guise of a happy couple, ready for a date night away from their three – wait no, four – children at home. 

They always had fun coming up with their backstories for investigations. Very rarely did their carefully crafted stories wind up making any difference. No one ever asked who they were, instead they tried to blend into the background, but the roleplay had become a sort of ritual. A ritual they would sometimes carry through to the end of the night, holding true to their pseudonyms buried within the sheets, taking their hand-crafted characters through all of the motions. That was Betty’s favorite part, truthfully, and it was almost ironic to her For as long period of her adolescence, she had kept up the façade of the perfect girl next door and hid behind the mask of who she thought everyone wanted her to be. So for her, choosing willingly to take on a different persona was, in her later years, empowering. Rather than a disguise she plastered on the outside every day, these scattered roleplays had become more of an outlet, a chance for Betty and Jughead to branch out from who they were every other day of the year and step into the figurative shoes of whatever surname they took for the night. Tonight, they were Mr. & Mrs. Smith, parents to a set of twins and two toddlers who wanted to try something new. 

After a few more minutes, the artist scheduled to lead the class arrived and the class appeared to be starting. The ‘master artist’, Harvey Kinkle according to the website, was standing at the front of the room. He set up a camera trained on the painting at the front and another focused on the blank canvas next to it before calling everyone to attention.

“Good evening guys and gals!” he bellowed, bringing the previously uproarious banter to a halt. “My name is Harvey and I hope you’re all ready to learn. Tonight, we’re going to do a painting of the sunset over the water. I have cameras on the model and the canvas I’ll be working with. We’ll go through each step and I’ll come around as you do in case you need any help. Are there any questions?”

No one piped up and it appeared class was in session.

The brushes were already in water filled cups next to the canvases as Harvey passed out paper plates complete with four dollops of color. The color palette for the night was surprisingly simple - only black, orange, red, and yellow.

A short while later, Betty and Jughead both had two large orange circles on their canvases. Harvey said it was best to do the background first and work from the center out. That meant the sun was priority number one and it was surprisingly easy for both of them to slap a large orange ball into the center of their canvases. Harvey was walking around, helping anyone who couldn’t seem to grasp the simple task. Currently he was tied up with a group of women in their early twenties who appeared to be pretty inebriated if their not so subtle touches and shameless flirting were any indication. Unlike Betty and Jughead, who had barely touched their wine, the girls had been making a show of their copious consumptions. 

Jughead nudged Betty to signal his exit as the owner disappeared through the front door and she nodded in acknowledgement.

She sighed heavily, while the painting part of the night wasn’t going to bad, the company they were forced to keep was wearing her nerves thin. She took a long sip of her cup, hoping the liquid could either sooth her nerves or stifle her annoyance. The various groups of people were all loud and boisterous, spurred on by the alcohol and very clearly enjoying themselves. She scanned the room with a watchful eye, ensuring no one entered or exited the room without her knowledge while she waited for Jughead to return. 

Jughead carefully pulled the tiny pieces of thin metal out of his pocket, stretching them open the way Betty had shown him countless times before. She was right, he was not the one with the lock picking skills in their marriage and he cursed at his ineptitude as the first one snapped in half without breaking the lock loose.  _ Dammit, _ he thought, _ of course she was right, she was always right _ , he really should have known by now though he really hated to admit it. He stretched out the second bobby pin and inserted it more carefully, attempting to hit the locking pins in one smooth motion. The handle turned as he heard the last click and he was in the office with the door shut quietly behind him before anyone saw.

He rifled around on the desk, looking at papers, searching for receipts, but came up empty. His eyes fell on the drawers and he attempted to pull them open to no avail. They were locked. He pulled the singular hair pin that was still intact out of his pocket and tried picking the locks on the desk. He successfully freed one side before getting the pin stuck in the next lock. He tried to jiggle it a few times to loosen it up, but the final turn snapped the flimsy metal in two. 

He let out a deep groan,  _ maybe he should have taken three _ , he thought briefly before returning to the task at hand. He ran his fingers along the underside of the desk until he felt the cold metal of what seemed to be a key taped underneath near the far corner. Thank god he could put his lock picking ‘skills’ to rest.

Once the desk was fully opened, Jughead ruffled through it, keeping a watchful eye on the clock. He had been gone nearly ten minutes already. He quickly assessed the contents of the desk and found the smoking gun they had been looking for. There were room keys for a seedy hotel in Riverdale as well as receipts from various stays that matched up to dates marked ‘business’ in his calendar. He pulled out his phone and took pictures of all of the evidence, making sure to coordinate the dates with the receipts.

Jughead shut and locked the drawers before taping the key back up under the desk and swiftly exited the office.

He opened and shut the bathroom door, just for good measure, before taking his seat next to Betty again. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Bingo,” earning him a beaming smile in return. There was always something triumphant about an investigation going smoothly. They had their fair share of them not going according to plan, so when it worked out seamlessly, it was just an added bonus.

Jughead pulled back to assess their canvases. Surrounding the orange circle in the middle, that had previously appeared to be a flat ball but now had depth, there were swirls of color. The hues of the sunset were beautiful. Betty must have finished her parts in plenty of time and moved onto his canvas. He couldn’t believe that in such a short period of time she was capable of making his pitiful and mostly white canvas into something so beautiful. “Thank you,” he whispered huskily against her ear. He saw her shiver in response and the mischievous glint in her eyes made him wish the paintings were done and they were on their way to engage in distinctly more preferable activities.

Betty laughed at Jughead’s masterpiece an hour later. It kind of resembled the ocean, but unlike hers with the ripple details and reflection of the sunset, his was much more two dimensional. 

“Hey, don’t laugh! You’re lucky I didn’t just paint black over the whole canvas and call it a night earlier,” his banter was teasing, but the heated look in his eyes told her he wasn’t kidding. “I mean it Mrs. Smith. You’ve been leaning over and bending down just to taunt me all night. I have half a mind to drag you out of here before these dry,” he warned, a dark haze settling over his typically cerulean irises.

“So do it,” she challenged, leaning over and making sure her breath fanned over the shell of his ear.

Without warning, he snatched up both paintings and signaled for Betty to follow him. Despite the paint rubbing off onto his hand, he made a swift exit and tossed them into the car unceremoniously. While they were beautiful, his mind was already within the confines of their home and the silly thought of paintings took a back seat to the mounting desire  inside of him, nearly bubbling up tounbearable heights already.

The drive wasn’t terribly long, but still long enough for Jughead to count each minute as it ticked by agonizingly slow. They pulled up in front of their house, a modest bungalow near the division of the northside and southside of Riverdale.

As soon as their heavy wooden door shut behind them, Jughead spun Betty around and picked her up, carrying her through the house and depositing her on their king-sized bed. She giggled as the mattress sunk underneath her. 

"Come here Mr. Smith," she said, a sultry tone threaded through her words. 

Jughead sunk his knees into the mattress on either side of her, bracketing her thighs between his and pressing her further into the mattress as the full weight of his body settled over hers. He ducked down and nipped at her collarbone, one of her many weaknesses he had learned over the years and she was boneless beneath him, willing to bend to whatever whim Mr. Smith felt like pursuing that night. 

He continued his assault on her pulse point, licking and sucking, marking her as his own despite the band wrapped around her finger claiming the same thing; these marks were just for his eyes, her cardigans and collars covering the dark purple reminders of their nights of passion. 

They made quick work of each other’s clothes and were skin to skin in no time, the feel of his rugged muscles against her soft flesh causing a delicious friction.

Betty sunk her nails into the soft skin of his lower back and guided him to her aching core. She was dripping with heat the instant his eyes took on the sinfully dark shade at the class. Being caged under his sturdy frame now made her lose the last ounce of self control she clung to the entire ride home. She raised her hips and urged him forward in the same motion, a seamless transition leaving her wrapped around him and their chests heaving.

“Fuck baby,” he growled into her neck, “you feel so goddamn good.”

Betty moaned in response as Jughead began dragging himself agonizingly slow in and out of her. He’d pull back far enough to nearly lose contact and slowly push forward again, her writhing under him each time.

Her breaths were labored already and he began to pick up the pace as her hands traveled from the small of his back up to his shoulders and she locked her ankles around his back. 

The sensation of moving together in perfect harmony brought them both to the brink before long, releasing together in a rhythm they became acquainted with long ago, a well-practiced art they had both mastered far better than their earlier painting debacle.  

Jughead collapsed on the bed next to her, reaching over to grab a few tissues and they cleaned up before tangling their bare limbs together. She cuddled into his side, slotting into her rightful place under his arm and in their bed.

“Looks like the Smiths need new sheets,” Jughead mused, pointing to the splotches of paint that had transferred from his hands to the egyptian cotton. 

Betty giggled and nodded, “Yeah, I guess they do.”

“I needed three, by the way,” he said without further explanation.

“Three?” she asked quizzically, angling her head up to look at him.

“Three bobby pins. I wound up breaking two of them,” he confessed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“But you got everything we needed right?”

“Yeah, I found a key taped under the desk. Our target’s not the sharpest tool in the shed,” he paused, “Moral of the story, is that you were right, Mrs. Smith.”

Betty leaned up, pausing only when her lips were within inches of his, “I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” she breathed.

“You’ll never get tired of hearing the name Mrs. Smith?” he teased, slowly closing the already minimal distance between them. “What? Is Jones not good enough for you now?”

Betty smirked against his lips. “No, I’ll never get tired of you telling me how right I am,” she jested before pressing a light kiss to his lips and pulling back again, “and Jones suits me just fine. Elizabeth Jones – the wife who’s always right. It has  _ such _ a nice ring to it.”

He smiled mischievously at her and pulled her back down into a bruising kiss. He already admitted she was right once that night,  _ that was enough,  _ he thought _ , no need to let it go to her head _ .  

Even after all of these years, the electric feeling of her mouth moving against his never dulled, just as magnetic as the day they first kissed in her bedroom, as inexperienced teenagers, unaware of the twists and turns their life together would take.

**Author's Note:**

> If you all liked it, please leave a comment or kudos. 
> 
> I appreciate you taking the time to read my musings!
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr @bugggghead
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. Make sure to check out the rest of the fics in the collection as they are posted! We have some really fun prompts to be included so STAY TUNED!!!


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